"How horrible you are!" Tamara flashed. "Jack to be eaten by bears!
Poor dear old Jack! What has he done?"
"Nothing, I hope,—as yet; but time will tell. Now we must begin to dance."
And they rose, called to the center by the Master of the Ceremonies to assist in a figure.
While the Prince was doing his part she noticed his movements seemed languid and not full of his usual wild entrain, and her feeling of unease and dread of she knew not what increased.
Tamara was very popular, and was hardly left for a moment on her chair when the flower figures began, so their conversations were disjointed, and at last almost ceased, and unconsciously a stiff silence grew up between them, caused, if she had known it, on his side, by severe physical pain.
She was surprised that he handed all his flowers to her but did not ask her to dance, nor did he rise to seek any other woman. He just sat still, though presently, when magnificent red roses were brought in in a huge trophy, and Serge Grekoff was seen advancing with a sheaf of them to claim Tamara, he suddenly asked her to have a turn, and got up to begin.
She placed her hand on his arm, and she noticed he drew in his breath sharply and winced in the slightest degree. But when she asked him if something hurt him, and what it was, he only laughed and said he was well, and they must dance; so away they whirled.
A feverish anxiety and excitement convulsed Tamara. What in heaven's name had occurred?
When they had finished and were seated again she plucked up courage to ask him:
"Prince, I feel sure Count Varishkine is not really ill. Something has happened. Tell me what it is."